Holding Space: An Urban Educator’s Story of Social-Emotional Competence in the Hardest Season

The hallway felt heavier than usual as November crept toward the holidays. Mrs. Jones, a veteran urban educator, could feel it before the first bell even rang—the slumped shoulders, the rushed footsteps, the unspoken tension simmering beneath her students’ morning greetings. Every year it arrived the same way, quietly at first, then all at once: the weight her students carried into the building right before the holiday season.

But this year, Mrs. Jones noticed a difference in herself too. She was more tired, more stretched, more emotionally thin. She understood what the research said—that an educator’s social and emotional competence strongly influences student outcomes—but she was also learning, firsthand, how difficult it is to maintain that competence when everyone around you is unraveling.

Still, when she stepped into her classroom, she inhaled deeply, centered herself, and whispered the silent reminder she had adopted years ago: You cannot help them regulate if you are dysregulated.

The Season of Unloading

By mid-November, her ninth graders were “unloading,” as she called it. One student paced the back of the room after finding out a family member had been incarcerated. Another hadn’t slept because of arguments at home. A third had started shutting down completely, refusing classwork he ordinarily loved.

In an urban school, these stresses were not new. But during the weeks leading up to Thanksgiving and winter break, the pressure intensified. Students’ housing situations shifted. Food insecurity worsened. Family dynamics grew unpredictable. The stability of the school building became both a refuge and a trigger.

Mrs. Jones felt all of that energy land on her shoulders daily. And yet, her responsibility—to model calm, to teach literacy, to regulate conflict, to build community—didn’t lessen. If anything, it expanded.

She caught herself feeling frustrated one morning when a student snapped at her for reminding him to log into IXL. She closed her eyes, exhaled, and name-tagged her feeling: I’m overwhelmed. It was a strategy she taught her students, but one she had often forgotten to use on herself.

When Educators Regulate, Learning Opens

Because Mrs. Jones understood something essential: her ability to manage her own emotions had a direct impact on whether her students could learn.

When she practiced self-regulation—pausing before reacting, maintaining warmth in her voice, showing empathy, she watched her classroom shift. Students mirrored her calm. Conflicts de-escalated faster. Academic engagement improved.

One afternoon, a student stormed into her room crying after an argument at home. Instead of redirecting him immediately, she quietly pulled up a chair.

“Do you want to talk, or do you just need a safe place to breathe?” she asked.

He nodded, tears slowing. Within minutes, he was ready to rejoin his group. Later that day, he wrote more in his journal than he had in weeks.

Moments like that reinforced what she already believed: the relational safety she cultivated was the foundation for academic growth. Without it, rigor meant nothing.

The Educator's Internal Work

But managing her own SEC wasn’t easy. It required intentional practice:

• Self-awareness, to recognize when she was becoming reactive.

• Self-management, to ground herself before addressing student behavior.

• Social awareness, to understand the broader hardships her students faced.

• Relationship skills, to maintain trust when students are emotionally volatile.

• Responsible decision-making, to choose responses aligned with compassion and accountability.

She had learned to stop taking students’ behavior personally. Instead, she viewed their outbursts as a communication signal of unmet needs or unseen pain. That mindset shift helped her stay emotionally steady, even on days when the climate was tough.

Yet she also acknowledged that she could not pour from an empty cup. When the final bell rang, she made it a point to walk outside for ten minutes before tackling grading. She limited after-school commitments to two days per week. At night, she journaled—not for anyone else, but to clear the emotional residue of the day.

These weren’t luxuries; they were survival tools.

A Small Moment, a Big Impact

One week before Thanksgiving break, Mrs. Jones’ class was reading a short story when a student raised his hand and said quietly, “Mrs. J… I like this class. It feels calm in here.”

It caught her off guard. Calm wasn’t how she had been feeling internally. But it reminded her that students often feel the emotional environment more than they understand it.

Her ability to stay steady, despite her own life stressors, had created a learning space where students felt emotionally safe—and emotional safety is a prerequisite for academic achievement.

In that moment, she realized her SEC wasn’t just about her well-being. It was directly influencing her students' capacity to focus, persist, and succeed academically.

Closing Reflections: The Gift of Presence

As the holiday season approached, Ms. Jones decided to give herself the same compassion she offered her students. She didn’t have to be perfect—just present, grounded, and reflective.

Urban educators endure emotional labor that is rarely fully acknowledged. But their social-emotional competence is one of the most powerful drivers of student achievement, especially in the months when students are struggling the most.

By holding space for herself, Mrs. Jones could continue holding space for them.

And sometimes, that is the greatest gift an educator can offer—not just in December, but all year long.